


i can articulate a shakespeare poem, and then i think of you

by seulgishyun (inanotheruniverse)



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/F, liSTEN they're cute as teachers ok, that teacher au no one wanted, the satan twins plus the evil maknaes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanotheruniverse/pseuds/seulgishyun
Summary: Kang Seulgi should probably give her advisory class more homework, just so she could foil her students' attempts of matching her up with their new Science teacher, Bae Juhyun.or the au where seulgi and irene are teachers, and the entire universe ships them.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i'm going to post a proper seulrene fic one of these days, angst and all. for the meantime, here's some fluff.
> 
> i'm also not very familiar with the way south korean schools exactly work, and anything i've written here is gleaned from google. i apologize for any inaccuracies.
> 
> i'm also supposed to be working on another fic, but seulrene happened to me, and now i can't get them off my head. OTL
> 
> @tanski, this is your fault.

_i don't know where this metaphor is going; ‘cause there are no words you can understand, only lovers can, you can ask the professor and the madman; if they couldn't find the words, no one can;_

...

 

 

Kang Seulgi eyes her class of thirty two, scanning the entire room for that one brave soul who would meet her gaze head on and answer the question she’s been asking for the past five minutes.

But no one seems to have the heart—or they’re just plain bored, judging from the yawn she catches coming from that one girl at the back, her mouth shaping into a wide _O_.

Seulgi surreptitiously hopes this isn’t the case. Not when everything had gone swimmingly during homeroom this morning, that even the sleepy student—Chou Tzuyu—looked like she couldn’t wait to jump start her day.

“Anyone?” Seulgi says, purposely turning her voice up until it pulls Tzuyu out of her growing drowsiness, Tzuyu’s mouth snapping shut mid-yawn. “Really, guys? No one knows how Aphrodite was born?”

“Wasn’t it like, the _natural_ way?” A different student chimes in, and Seulgi recognizes the voice belonging to Eunbi (or SinB as she told everyone to call her; and _yes_ , that includes Seulgi).

“It depends on what you mean by natural, SinB.”

“You know,” the girl replies. “Like when moms pop babies out of their—”

Her hands gesture wildly, pointing from her stomach and down to her—and _no_ , just _no_.

“Oh my God, that’s disgusting!” Sowon, her seatmate yells, slapping the back of SinB’s head for good measure. “Do _not_ even think about finishing that sentence.”

SinB lets out a throaty yelp as she soothes the offended spot. Kim Sojung may look thin and frail to some, but having a black belt at taekwondo also means that she packs a mean punch.

“Sowon,” Seulgi calls out. Her face is calm and looking totally _innocuous_ , yet everyone knows not to mess with the reprimand lacing her tone. “Settle down.”

Sowon squirms in her seat, muttering a soft, “ _Ne_ , Seulgi-seonsaengnim.”

(But the elbow that hits SinB’s temple as she’s pulling her hand back is _totally_ an accident.)

Seulgi takes a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose, though, there’s a rumble of a chuckle that echoes in her chest. Because her students may be in permanent mayhem mode all the time, but, really, they’re just a bunch of harmless softies.

And Seulgi loves them all the same.

.

 

Except, _maybe_ , this one student who’s currently raising her hand really high up, despite her already tall form.

Seulgi spots her easily, all short hair and that signature smirk on her face that Seulgi’s admittedly a little scared of; and she’d very much like to pretend she isn’t seeing Park Sooyoung waving to get her attention.

Joy’s other hand even joins its flailing partner in the air. “Seulgi-seonsaengnim!”

Seulgi sucks at her teeth, seriously considering whether or not to continue pretending that Joy does not exist—at this moment, at least—but her students _really_ do hold half of her heart, even Joy and her other mayhem twin.

So she simply takes a deep breath, as if preparing herself for the onslaught of Hurricane Joy, and then finally says, “Yes, Joy? Do you know how Aphrodite was born?”

“No,” Joy answers cheekily. And really, Seulgi should have known. “But I do know that she’s coming right about…”

Seulgi frowns at the pregnant pause; first wondering what on earth could Joy possibly mean, second, trying to figure out _why_.

Then Joy yells _now_ , a thumb jerking at the glass windows framing the room and separating it from the hallway.

And as Seulgi follows Joy’s hand with her gaze, all she can think of is, _oh God, she’s right_.

.

 

White flowy dress and gracious steps, the hems at the edge sashaying behind her, leaving a trail of enchanted eyes and charmed hearts in her wake.

Irene is a vision Seulgi didn’t think she’d ever see. But now she _does_ , five days a week;  sometimes six, when work demands a Saturday from their already meager weekends.

(And it’s honestly a miracle that Seulgi stays alive every time she catches the littlest glimpse of _her_ , what with her heart beating wildly beneath her chest and the blood rushing in her ears.)

 _Baephrodite_ , Wendy, their resident Music teacher and Seulgi’s best friend, has coined once—which appealed to Seulgi’s literature-loving side so much that she gave it the _Kang Seul Gi_ seal of approval—during that third faculty meeting and the first time Seulgi was caught staring at their new Science teacher, Bae Juhyun.

She’s Irene to everyone, but Seulgi has made the mistake of calling her _Hyun-ah_ that one Saturday they did tutoring classes to seniors who already failed their first major exams, and Irene smiled a shy, beautiful smile that made Seulgi’s knees go weak, and she’s been resolved since then to make her smile like that _all_ the time.

So she calls her Hyun when no students are around, but, _yeah_ , Baephrodite may be the most appropriate name right at this moment.

Her hair is falling in waves today, a huge contrast from how she has tied it on a neat bun yesterday. But Seulgi doesn’t mind the change at all. She just really wants to see Irene.

(Like, _maybe_ , all the time.)

Irene has her lesson plan and some books clutched in her arms, pressing against her chest. But she frees a hand to wave at Seulgi when their eyes meet; mouths a _hi_ that Seulgi doesn’t—can never—miss.

The younger teacher raises her own hand, waving back. Probably pretty dumbly too because she’s feeling a little floaty now that Irene’s smiling at her and _oh holy Hades_ , she’s biting her bottom lip.

Her eyes don’t leave Irene’s even when the other woman reaches past the classroom door, her head turning to follow Irene’s every step until she disappears from Seulgi’s sight completely.

Seulgi slumps afterwards, feeling like she’s chased some nymph in a lavender field with the way she’s held her breath the whole time.

(She might as well have, haven’t she?)

Her hip props against the edge of her desk for support, the heels of her palms pressing flat on the desk to keep herself upright.

Irene’s smile is stuck somewhere in her brain, playing on a loop, like a movie only she can see. Until she hears another student call her name—no, not just any other student, but the other half of her class’ mayhem twins.

“Seulgi-seonsaengnim.”

She’s almost afraid to ask, but she knows that her student is never going to stop if she doesn’t give any form of response, so she says, “Yes, Yerim?”

“May I please leave my seat?”

Seulgi frowns, throwing Yeri a puzzled look. “Uh, what for?”

Yeri doesn’t speak. Instead, she stands wordlessly from her seat, gliding from her row and through the aisle as she approaches her teacher.

There’s a folded paper she’s carrying in her hand. A paper boat, Seulgi finds out when Yeri gets close. An _S.S. Seulrene_ is written on both sides of it, in Yeri’s recognizable scribble; and _Christ_ , nothing good is going to come out of this, isn’t it? Not for Seulgi, at least.

The younger girl stoops down, placing the paper boat at Seulgi’s feet, right in front of the tip of her shiny black shoes.

Seulgi hums in confusion, her frown only deepening. “What’s this, Yeri?”

The younger girl shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “You’ve been drooling so much I thought I’d make a boat.”

Seulgi bolts upright and pushes herself off her desk. But she’s a little too stunned to speak, and the only thing she manages to say is a chiding _yah_.

Yet, the redness in her cheeks belies the authority she’s trying to convey, so it loses its effect entirely and has Yeri ending up with having to cup a hand over her mouth to hide a snicker.

But her shoulders shake anyway, and, _really_ , the sound she makes is pretty much a guffaw. Joy doesn’t even resist throwing her head back, cackling.

Seulgi’s really starting to think twice about loving her students.

...

 

 

 _Junior Class 3D_ is one of Irene’s favorite classes to teach, so much so that she’s set her own personal rule to always arrive a few minutes earlier to class. She may have to hover by the door or stand near the glass windows, but she’s completely fine with it because she really does love the class.

But today, she’s a minute late, and Irene is having a really hard time believing that the perfect record she has been keeping ever since she started teaching at Kaizan High has been tarnished. Just because of some unforeseen traffic five minutes away from her school.

(She’s totally _not_ feeling bummed because she missed Seulgi’s Homeroom period, which always comes before her lessons with Seulgi’s advisory class. By the time she got to the room, Seulgi’s already gone and Joy’s laugh and Yeri’s voice can be heard in the hallway.

Granted, she has lunch to look forward to, with Wendy and Moonbyul tagging along with Seulgi, while Yongsun, the guidance counselor and her best friend, is coming with her.

It’s _just_ all about perfect records.)

So Irene writes _creating the hypothesis_ on the whiteboard with a pout, her neat, cursive scrawl looking slightly less perfect today because her impeccable record has been broken.

“To reiterate,” she starts to say, then underlines the phrase twice. The pout drops before she turns around to face the class again. “A hypothesis is an educated guess. An attempt to answer the question with an explanation that can be tested.”

She caps the marker back on, smiling encouragingly at her students as she asks, “Any questions?”

Irene doesn’t really think any of it when Joy’s hand shoots up. She even welcomes her enthusiasm, and matches it with her own. “Yes, Miss Park?”

“Do you have a boyfriend, Irene-seonsaengnim?”

Round eyes go wide at the unexpected question, eyebrows slowly rising up. Irene’s mouth forms a tiny _o_ next, lips quivering at a stutter. “ _M-Mwo_?”

“Or maybe a girlfriend?”

“I—” Irene continues to stammer, looking flustered enough that Joy _basks_ in it. “That is not related to the lesson at all, Sooyoung.”

“Seonsaengnim.” It’s Yeri who jumps in. “How about me? I have a hypothetical question!”

“Yes, go ahead Miss Kim,” the teacher says, tacks on a strained _please_ that she doesn’t even care about everyone else hearing.

“Hypothetically, if Seulgi-seonsaengnim courts you, does she stand a chance?”

“Oh…” Irene swallows thickly. Though, a nervous chuckle still manages to escape from her throat, and she has to resist fanning her suddenly warm face with her fingers. “That’s… that’s not related to the lesson, either?”

“Seonsaengnim is right!” Tzuyu says from her seat. “Besides, Bogum-seonsaengnim is the one who’s gonna court Irene-seonsaengnim.”

Yeri bristles at that, for known and unknown reasons. “Yah! No one asked you, Chou Tzuyu!”

Tzuyu opens her mouth to lob back a retort, but Irene quickly cuts her off, stopping the argument before it even escalates. Knowing Tzuyu and Yeri, they could go on for _days_. “Alright, that’s enough, you two.”

“Whatever,” Yeri grumbles under her breath. And, _okay_ , maybe there’s a streak of competitiveness that snaps taut inside her because she and Tzuyu have been rivals since birth. That’s why she’s admittedly feeling a little cranky now because whatever Tzuyu has said might be fifty percent true, and she hasn’t gotten a notable answer from Irene.

(She’ll be damned if Irene picks their Math teacher in the end because she’s been rooting for Seulgi from the start.

And she’s _so_ not going to lose three weeks’ worth of allowance if Bogum-seonsaengnim wins.

Not that, you know, their teacher’s heart is a prize and her love life is a contest. But, _still_ —)

“Please go to your respective partners everyone,” Irene announces, pulling Yeri’s attention back to her. “And create the hypothesis based from the question you’ve come up with from yesterday’s lesson.”

She throws a good-natured glare at Yeri’s direction as she continues. “A real one, okay?”

Yeri, in turn, grins at her innocently, batting her eyelashes before traipsing her way to Hyejin’s seat.

Irene can only laugh and shake her head.

...

 

 

Homeroom the next day is a quiet affair, though Seulgi supposes that it’s due to the fact that five of her class’ teachers scheduled a major quiz on the same day, including her.

Even Joy has her nose buried in her literature book, which may or may not be making Seulgi’s heart swell (but she’s never gonna admit that to _anyone_ ).

The entire room is already blanketed in silence when she steps inside, save for the low murmurs here and there: SinB asking Sowon if she thinks Dionysus ever got drunk, Wheein whining at her best friend Hyejin about how she doesn’t think she’d ever get to leap past that one tall vault in their gym class, Tzuyu mumbling some kind of formula to herself that Seulgi vaguely recognizes as an algebraic equation.

And Seulgi’s admittedly not used to her class _actually_ behaving, so she’s kind of feeling a little out of her element. She’s used to having to ask her students to settle down first thing in the morning, and not having to do so feels… different.

Seulgi only even has to clear her throat _once_ , before thirty two heads snap up and look at her expectantly.

“Uh, hi,” she says. A hand slides up and scratches at the back of her neck, suddenly feeling like she’s been thrust into some kind of spotlight. “I see you’re all studying, but I have to distribute the waiver for next month’s field trip.”

At that, her entire class visibly perks up. SinB cuts off her own rant about how jealous she is that Dionysus probably has never had a hangover and turns to face their teacher, while Joy gives up on the pretense of _actually_ caring about the _splendid_ decisions Heracles had made in his life and snaps her book shut.

The others scoot forward in their seats, as if they can’t wait to get this small piece of paper in their hands.

Seulgi can’t help but smile though, sharing their enthusiasm. Frankly, she’s been looking forward to it too that there’s a bounce in her steps as she shuffles forward, planting herself right in the middle of the aisle that separates her class in two.

“I’ll need to have the waivers by the end of the week,” she instructs, and then she starts distributing the waiver in fives, handing them to the students flanking the aisles. “Failure to submit means you’re not coming with us.”

Quiet murmurs of acknowledgement fills the entire room. Seulgi waits for everyone to receive their waivers, eyes roaming around to make sure that each of her students has a copy, before moving to her second topic for the day.

Though, Seulgi isn’t able to get to the next bullet point in her notes because once Joy receives hers, she doesn’t hesitate to ask, “Is Irene-seonsaengnim coming with us, though?”

She doesn’t look at Seulgi, her eyes poring over the waiver instead. But Seulgi knows that she _isn’t_ reading it at all.

Seulgi’s own pair narrow into thin slits as she wonders what the kid is up to now. “As far as I know, she is coming _to_ the field trip, yes.”

Joy lifts her head up when she hears Seulgi’s answer; but, this time, she turns to face the windows to stare at the cherry blossom trees surrounding their school’s green field.

Her sigh is rather dramatic, and Seulgi now understands why Joy has been heralded president of their batch’s theater club. “She’s new to the school, Seulgi-seonsaengnim. She’d need a tour guide, don’t you think?”

“I’m pretty sure she has been to Everland at least once, Joy.”

“You don’t know that, Seulgi-seonsaengnim!” Yeri pipes in, and _God_ , she loves her students, she really does, especially even more so when she accidentally blurted out to the entire class that Irene is the prettiest girl she’s ever met, and that she may or may not like her so much.

They’ve been nothing but supportive since then, and really, it’s how _everything_ started.

(They’re even insisting every chance they get that Irene _does_ like her back. But Irene is a genuinely kind person who smiles and hugs everyone she’s comfortable with, and Seulgi is anything but assuming.)

Still, she can’t be help but wish she has the hindsight to know what they’re up to, because half the time, it never ends in her favor.

Seulgi opens her mouth to reply, but there’s a knock on the door that cuts her off before she can even begin. She turns towards the sound of it creaking open, yet she freezes right in place, her feet sticking like glue on the ground.

Because behind it is indeed _the_ prettiest girl she’s ever met.

Irene has her long black hair tied in a messy bun, and the perfect locks that escaped perfectly frames her perfect, _perfect_ face.

Her brown, as-warm-as-a-hot-mug-of-chocolate eyes twinkle behind her round glasses as she throws Yerin a grateful smile for opening the door.

Irene saunters inside and walks to where Seulgi is, her graceful movements holding Seulgi in some kind of trance. And it only breaks when she greets the younger teacher, “ _Annyeong_ , Seulgi-ssi.”

Yet, her timid smile seems to take Seulgi into a whole new level of _charmed_ , where Seulgi’s heart skips _beats_ —rendered speechless, left breathless.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Byulyi-ssi asked me to relay a message to your class?”

“Seulgi-seonsaengnim!” A whispered hiss shakes her from her _Irene-_ induced stupor. Her brain manages to grasp that it’s Hyejin, and _God_ , she hopes she isn’t wearing a dumb, lovesick look on her face or her students are never going to let her live it down.

She startles, though, she successfully disguises it with the clearing of her throat. Then, “Yes, of course, Irene-ssi.”

Irene mumbles a soft _thank you_ before turning to the class to speak. Seulgi takes this moment and lets herself be lost in the visual standing in front of her: black jeans and a simple blue striped button up with its front hem tucked in.

Has she mentioned that Irene is the prettiest girl she’s ever met?

“Byulyi-seonsaengnim asked me to inform you guys that there won’t be any need to change into your gym clothes, since you will only be taking a written exam today.”

Irene gets a collective nod for an answer, thirty two heads moving up and down in different syncs. She smiles wide, then, “That would be all. I’ll see you guys again in a few!”

Seulgi manages to gather herself at the last second—right after Irene waves goodbye to her students and before she turns to thank Seulgi again—wiping the dazed smile off her face that she’s sure she’s wearing, and replacing it with a more… _professional_ one.

“It’s nothing,” says Seulgi. “And I’m sorry Byulyi-unnie had to bother you instead of just coming here herself.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Irene answers, waves a hand in gesture because it really _is_. “I needed a break from grading papers anyway.”

They share a smile, Seulgi’s reaching her eyes and forming the crescents the entire school knows her for. Her nose even crinkles, accentuating her cheeks, and Irene has to bite at her lip to stop herself from darting a hand out and pinching them.

It leads to a quiet moment that Seulgi really, really likes; the kind she only ever sees in the dramas Wendy loves to make her watch, their smiles growing bigger and more meaningful as they draw closer and closer—

—until Yeri’s loud voice plows through the perfect moment, dropping a comment that honestly doesn’t surprise Seulgi at all, because, well, it’s _Yeri_.

“Irene-seonsaengnim! Seulgi-seonsaengnim has a message to relay to you too!”

(But her face scrunches, _still_ , and she can only hope that the smile she’s been wearing isn’t morphing into a grimace.)

Irene, ever the jumpy one, startles at the sound. Seulgi quickly reaches out to steady her, fingers wrapping on each of Irene’s arms. “Are you okay?”

The other woman nods at Seulgi in response, despite the way her chin drops, trying to hide the embarrassed blush tinting her cheeks.

Yeri doesn’t even look the least bit apologetic as she continues to catch Irene’s attention. “Seonsaengnim! Seulgi-seonsaengnim wants to know if you can ride our field trip bus?”

“ _Ne_ ,” Joy seconds. The mischief glimmering in her eyes tells Seulgi that things will not bode well for her. “But we know she’s too shy to ask. Please, Irene-seonsaengnim? For us?”

There’s another voice that joins the ruckus, “Yah, no! Irene-seonsaengnim is going with Bog—”

But whatever the thought is never gets to finish. And when Seulgi looks, she sees Yeri cupping a hand over Tzuyu’s mouth to shush her.

She has never wanted the ground to swallow her whole this much.

...

 

 

By the time lunch comes, Seulgi has gathered enough confidence to face Irene again (especially after the stunt her class has pulled.

Nevermind that Irene said _yes_ , and that Seulgi’s genuinely happy about that. Her students really need to learn when to stop meddling.)

They’re at their usual table, with Moonbyul on her left and Irene in front of her. Yongsun is sitting right next to Moonbyul—because those two don’t know the concept of space—while Wendy is sitting beside Irene.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to ride in your bus?” Irene asks, for like, the seventeenth time.

And Seulgi assures her every single time she does, with a smile to boot. “Yes, I promise.”

“Do you still have seats left? Bogum-ssi’s class is smaller. Maybe I should—”

“No, it’s okay, really!” Seulgi cuts off so quickly, that Moonbyul snorts beside her as she takes another bite of the homemade sandwich Yongsun made for her (that she’s been lording over Seulgi’s head all morning). “My students won’t even mind if one of them has to give up their seat. They love you that much.”

“Their adviser does too— _ow_!”

Moonbyul’s screech echoes all over the cafeteria, turning everyone’s heads. It trickles into huffed grunts as she stoops down and presses her fingers over her throbbing toes.

It morphs into grumbles as she dusts off the mark Seulgi’s oxfords has left on the white surface of her designer shoes. But the way Yongsun fusses over her, and the redness on both Irene’s and Seulgi’s faces are totally worth those five seconds of cursing under her breath.

(And the dry cleaning fee she’s _so_ gonna bill Seulgi with.)


	2. two a.

In the next school day that comes, Seulgi gets to take her entire class to their school’s modest library.

It’s for their term paper writing, and she has instructed them to write some sort of biography for the Greek god or goddess of their own choosing, with their resources limited to the books kept within the four walls.

(She's been trying to engage her students to read more, amidst this age of technology where every answer is just one click away.)

And Seulgi is admittedly a bit excited to read her students’ works; perks of having a class that runs on forty percent sass and sixty percent wild imagination.

So she lets them roam around freely inside the two-storey structure—independence is a concept her students have no difficulty grasping; their own bosses, they are—and settles on one of the tables conveniently situated to oversee them.

She’s on the final chapter of _American Gods_ (that she's saved for a time like this), on the third to the last page that has her in her toes, when a shadow abruptly blocks her source of light.

Seulgi snaps her head up, confusion quickly settling in on her face at the sight of Yeri towering over her, looking like she _needs_ Seulgi’s attention pronto.

“Yes, Yeri?” She checks, blindly tucking her bookmark in between the pages. “Is something the matter?”

“I can't find the book you told me about, Seonsaengnim,” Yeri says to explain her sudden appearance.

Seulgi’s forehead dips into a crease, jogging her memory for the title. “Did you look in aisle C-D?”

Yeri nods twice, and her face falls when she chances a glance at the huge clock hanging by the wall behind her teacher. “I'm not gonna be able to finish my paper in time, Seonsaengnim! Help me, please?”

“Okay, okay,” Seulgi pacifies, pats Yeri’s head as she slides out of her chair. “We’ll find it.”

She gives her students a quick look before leaving her table, feeling incredibly pleased when she's greeted by bowed heads and the sound of pens scratching against various forms of paper. (It only means that her class is taking their work seriously.)

Seulgi turns then, following Yeri down the row of tall shelves. They pass by a few tables on their way, and Seulgi finds herself smirking at the argument that she overhears Joy sniping a male classmate with: _look, Ares is all rage and rippling pectorals. He's not smart. Athena’s obviously gonna win_ ; Hyejin’s very passionate _the stigma about_ _Hades needs to die. He's the least shadiest of them all, and he's not a cheater_ ; and then chuckles at Wheein moaning about how No Face should’ve been a Greek god then she'd know what exactly to write about.

They reach aisle C-D in about a dozen strides. Seulgi glides in between the two sturdy shelves that house those thick, gold and brown hardbound encyclopedias, stopping at the spot Yeri points at, where she spent good long minutes searching.

The taller woman stoops down slightly and runs a hand on each spine, reading off the title where her fingers land.

She hums when she reaches the last book. “I could've sworn there were enough copies here. I checked all the books in the list before going home last night.”

Seulgi straightens back up, and then pulls one of the few with a titleless spine. It vaguely resembles the _The Complete World of Greek Mythology_ that they're looking for with its black and gold cover, though, this book’s title in front definitely suggests that it's not _it_.

Seulgi carefully stacks it on the farthest end, pulling another one sandwiched in between two huge colorful encyclopedias before sliding the remaining books towards the vacated space with a light push.

“Someone else must’ve borrowed it and taken it out, Yeri-ah,” she says as she flips another book on its back and shakes her head.

“But Seonsaengnim…”

Seulgi looks over her shoulder, offering a smile to Yeri that’s full of reassurance. “Let’s do one last sweep, and if it’s really not here, I’ll check the teacher’s lounge for a copy, okay?”

At Yeri’s grateful nod, Seulgi starts pulling out the remaining books one by one, stacking them on the nearby shelf in hopes of finding the last copy of the one Yeri needs.

But the book just isn’t there, no matter how much Seulgi insists to herself that she checked last night (which she _did_ ). So, with a defeated sigh, she returns the last book she's taken and resolves to just let Yeri use the teachers only copy for the meantime.

She slides in four more, and she's about to return _Dynasty: The Rise and Fall of the House of Caesar_ back to its place, when her eyes catch a familiar pair of dark, wide ones.

They're looking up at the higher shelf that’s directly in front of Seulgi’s, gleaming with deep thought as Irene continues to scan through the titles on the high shelf.

It soon morphs into a stubborn kind of determination when she stretches a hand out and—

Jumps.

Irene jumps _twice_ : first low that her feet barely lift off the ground; second, slightly higher, and Seulgi’s gaze catches the way Irene’s hair _bounces_ at the effort.

It’s ridiculously _entrancing_ that Seulgi almost forgets she's in the middle of their library and not in some Cover Girl CF shoot.

Both jumps leave Irene empty handed, though. But her face only twists into an even more adamant determination, pushing the sleeves of her modest off-shoulder top up, as if preparing for another.

Her fingers curl on the edge of the shelf for support, and then she leans on her toes for a quick push before propelling herself off of the tiled floor again.

Irene only manages to pull the book out of its spot: squeezed tightly in between the shelf’s end and a black book that says _New Testament_ in its spine (which totally does not belong in there, but the student assistant is too busy sending off flirty glances towards some male student to notice.)

Irene’s upper lip quirks along with her nose, a habit that Seulgi’s long noticed she does whenever things don’t quite go her way; and she looks like she’s one jump away from throwing a tantrum that Seulgi can't help the amused chuckle escaping from throat.

(Nor melting right on the spot because that was adorable beyond words and Seulgi is one mere defenseless mortal.)

The sound wafts through the next aisle despite the hand Seulgi cups over her mouth. In turn, Irene lets out a startled squeak, and her hands fly onto her chest as she frantically looks for the source; only for warmth to taint her cheeks red when she finds Seulgi grinning apologetically at her from the other side.

(In this really, really charming way that Irene wants to capture despite not having an affinity for taking pictures of people—or anything that isn’t the sky or the clouds.)

“Seulgi-ah,” she rasps, and then clears her throat when she notices that she's almost ceased breathing.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” The younger woman tilts her head next, chuckling softly. Then, she says, teasing, “Need some help?”

It takes about five beats before Irene finally answers, with an embarrassed giggle that Seulgi doesn’t miss. She tucks the stray locks of her hair behind her ear, and says, “I'm… starting to think that I do.”

Seulgi rounds the aisle to get to where Irene is. She knows she’s only barely taller than Irene, and that she probably won’t reach the shelf either; but Irene’s looking at her with her wide, beady eyes and Seulgi is physically incapable of saying no.

Yeri’s book will have to wait.

.

 

She asks Yeri for a minute, but Yeri knows that it's never just a minute with Seulgi if Irene is involved, and she silently mourns for her paper that's probably never going to be finished.

But then, Irene grasps Seulgi’s elbow to steady her when she wobbles a bit upon reaching up, and she says _please be careful_ so softly it'd tug on even Joy’s non-existent heartstrings.

And maybe, _maybe_ this is worth losing a few points for.

.

 

“There you are,” Joy whisper hisses as she rounds the aisle and finds Yeri ducking behind the stacks of ancient-looking encyclopedias. “I've been looking all over for you. I need some help with my paper.”

“Shhh,” Yeri shushes. The younger girl yanks her by her wrist in response, pulling her to her current hiding spot.

“What is your—”

Yeri presses her fingers on Joy’s lips, cutting the taller girl off, and Joy is left with no choice but to follow Yeri’s gaze.

She finds her adviser at the end of it, hands playing with the hem of her cardigan as Irene murmurs a shy thanks.

It's matched with a smile that Irene fails to stifle, which makes Seulgi absentmindedly scratch at her own temple as she says _anytime_ back, chasing the sheepishness away.

Joy’s non-existent heartstrings _do_ tug, and there's this unnamed feeling that flutters in her stomach that she thinks are supposed to be butterflies. (That, or she’s just hungry; probably a combination of both.)

But _she's_ Joy, so she says, “Are we watching a toothpaste commercial?”

Yeri steals another glance towards her teachers, biting back the urge to squeal when Seulgi takes the books Irene has gathered in her arms, including the one Seulgi had to lean up—not jump, _thank God_ —for. “That’s so romantic.”

Joy, in turn, rolls her eyes. “She’s just helping Irene-seonsaengnim carry the books, Yerim.”

“You weren't here, okay?” Yeri gripes, throwing Joy a sharp look. “You didn't see the whole thing.”

“Gross,” the taller girl shudders visibly. She’s rooting for her two teachers to be together, _yes_ , but that doesn’t really mean she wants to witness a lovefest. “Adult romance.”

.

 

In the end, they find the book in Tzuyu’s hands, when she brings it back to the shelf at the last minute. Yeri can’t help but think Tzuyu’s kept it on purpose, because Tzuyu loves watching Yeri fail at things. Plus, Literature is her favorite class so it’s like a double whammy.

But Seulgi lets her take the book home, at both her and Irene-seonsaengnim’s insistence. Yeri’s never one to take a gift horse in the mouth so she stuffs the book inside her bag, even making a show of unzipping it and tucking the book behind her laptop just as Tzuyu passes them by.

She does owe Tzuyu some kind of gratitude for everything that occurred today though, Yeri supposes as she watches Irene hook her bag on her shoulder, preparing to leave, with the books she has borrowed for the day still cradled in Seulgi’s arms.

Maybe she’ll put her plan of painting the front cover of Tzuyu’s Math notebook with correction fluid for another day.

(Besides, she needs to make sure that Seulgi-seonsaengnim will walk Irene-seonsaengnim home, because those books look heavy and Irene is small and precious.)

.

 

(But she doesn’t really have to. Seulgi does it all on her own.

And Yeri has to wipe the proud imaginary tears off of her face when Seulgi doesn’t even stutter as she tells Irene, _these are really heavy, let me walk you home_?)

...

 

 

Homeroom the next day is rather uneventful, with Seulgi just listing down the _to-dos_ for the remaining days of the school week and some additional reminders from class _3D_ ’s other teachers, such as another play rehearsal in two days.

Yeri leans back on her chair, hands playing with the pink cap of her correction fluid bottle (because today is technically _another_ day, which means she’s already honored the moratorium she has personally set; which _also_ means that today, she’s back to _war_.)

She’s feeling a little too eager to carry her prank out that she completely forgets to ask about how walking Irene-seonsaengnim home went and how it was. Yeri has been watching Tzuyu’s every move, specifically eyeing the spot where she keeps her notebooks, when Seulgi suddenly bids the class goodbye and it becomes too late for Yeri to do _anything_.

Though, judging by the bright smile on Irene-seonsaengnim’s face, and the cup of coffee she greets Seulgi with, Yeri _knows_ it went better than she expected.

.

 

She never really gets the chance to prod Seulgi about it when Lit class comes, because Seulgi waltzes in inside the classroom with her laptop bag slung across her torso while pushing the school projector’s rolling stand to the front.

Seulgi spends quite a few minutes hooking her laptop in, with this concentrated look on her face that Yeri doesn’t have the heart to break.

(Joy _would_ , but she’s a little too busy mouthing lines from the script of the school’s spring play that she’s holding in her hands.)

They dive right into the lesson once Seulgi finishes, the power point presentation she prepared flashing on the screen right away as she hits a key on her laptop. There’s an image of a painting of five or six women encircled around a green field, whom which Seulgi introduces as the _Horae_ , or goddesses of the seasons.

“They are also the wardens of the gates of Mount Olympus,” adds Seulgi. “And the goddesses of order and justice, starting with…”

The teacher makes a noticeable pause, and Yeri swears she sees her fight a blush from coloring her cheeks with a clear of her throat. She presses a key again to go to the next slide, though her lips clamp together tightly before she starts speaking again. “This is, uhm—we’ll start with the goddess of peace. Her name is _Eirene_.”

Joy’s head snaps up from her literature notes, with a smug grin that Yeri has no problem matching. “Is she your favorite, Seonsaengnim?”

“ _Aniyo_ ,” Seulgi refutes. Though the way her eyes dart all over the room make it _not_ convincing. “Athena and Hades are.”

“But she must hold a special place in your heart, Seonsaengnim? Being peace-loving and all?”

“Oh my God,” Seulgi mutters under her breath as she runs a palm that scrunches her face. She honestly has seen this coming, prepared for it even, and _yet_ , here she is, fumbling in front of her students at the mere mention of Irene’s name.

“Yah, Park Sooyoung,” Tzuyu’s voice echoes from the left side of the room. “Let Seonsaengnim move on to the next slide already. I have a Math club meeting after this.”

Joy’s teasing smirk turns into a saccharine smile as she twists her head to look at her classmate. But it’s Seulgi who she speaks to when she says, “Seonsaengnim, please tell us more about the goddess of peace? I wanna hear everything.”

.

 

Yeri vows to thank all the gods as soon she gets out of class for Park Sooyoung’s existence.

.

 

And Seulgi’s tendency to be forgetful, because now she—and those who weren’t in a hurry to get out of the classroom and go home—is staring at what’s probably the best email she has ever read in her entire life.

_To: kangsg@kaizanhs.kr.edu_

_From: baejh@kaizanhs.kr.edu_

_Subject: <3 <3 <3 _

_My saviour! <3 Thank you so much! And thanks for last night, too! _

_\- Hyun_

The collective gasp that ripples inside the modest room is what gets Seulgi’s attention. But it’s not until Wheein yells _Seonsaengim_ , and she sees a scandalized yet intrigued Hyejin sitting next to Wheein when she looks, a hand pressed over Hyejin’s chest as her mouth falls open, that Seulgi realizes that something isn’t quite right.

“Your laptop is still hooked onto the projector, Seulgi-seonsaengnim,” Yeri says meekly, the sudden heat on her face making it hard for her to talk.

Seulgi turns her gaze to the screen, eyes growing wide and horrified at the message that’s being shown. She clicks on the X button in panic, which proves to be the wrong move because now her entire inbox is visible, half of it filled with emails from one _Bae Ju Hyun_.

And perhaps, _this is not what it looks like_ is the wrong thing to say because Hyejin gasps even more—though melodramatic _and_ smirking as she arches a brow, that Seulgi grows more embarrassed—but her brain can’t really come up with any other reason because this _isn’t_ really what it looks like.

“I just helped her fix her laptop, guys,” Seulgi explains, with hope that her desperation isn’t seeping out of her tone. “It caught a really bad virus, and we had no choice but to reformat everything.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard Byulyi-seonsaengnim use the same excuse once,” Wheein mumbles at the same time SinB wonders (out loud. _Of course_ ). “Is that what adults call Netflix and chill?”

Seulgi slams her laptop shut and slides out of her desk chair, despite the buckle in her knees as they shake. “Let’s just start cleaning the classroom, okay?”

She walks towards the projector’s stand to turn it off and get a move on from _this_ , or else she’d end up banging her head on the very wooden and very sturdy desk.

If Irene doesn’t kill her first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! i'm sorry it took this long. i got swamped with work and drowned in so much seulrene, my little gay heart didn't know how to function. (not that i'm complaining, at all.) 
> 
> this also got really long that i had to cut it and post it in two parts.  thank you for reading, and for all the comments and the kudos!


	3. two b.

She gets to live for another two days, and now she’s in the middle of watching the rehearsals for the spring play that Wendy has written and is directing.

(Seulgi has been Wendy's other pair of eyes, ever since finding out that she has a vast background in theater since her high school days.)

Irene had merely laughed when Seulgi finally told her about what happened, over lunch the following day while sharing the bento for two that Irene made. She looked amused for the most part—which had Seulgi breathing out the air she’d been holding in since the day before—and really, _really_ beautiful—and that was when all the air came back rushing in, filling her lungs in one mesmerized sigh.

The rehearsal is light for now, maybe that's why Joy keeps on hamming it up. But something doesn't sit quite right, Seulgi can’t help but think, tilting her head as she observes the seventh attempt to nail the scene down.

Joy stares at SinB with a lovestruck look on her face, _and yet_ , she also looks like she's just heard the biggest joke of her young life.

SinB is outright laughing, her hands clutching at her stomach. It grows even more when she chances a glance at Joy, and the other girl pulls another silly face.

“Seonsaengnim!” SinB whines in between snickers. “She won't stop making faces at me!”

“Okay,” Wendy’s voice rings all over the mini-theater. Though, Seulgi swears the resigned sigh that follows is louder. “Let's just run through it again. From the top, please.”

SinB slides back into position in a snap while Joy stands straighter, the two of them towering over their teachers seated at the front row.

“Maybe I should rewrite the script,” Wendy mutters forlornly as SinB bursts into another round of laughter. “SinB can’t even get through one line without laughing.”

Seulgi flips back to the page where they’re currently at: Act Three Scene One, and then reads the line that SinB is supposed to act out. “Nah, they're just being difficult.”

Wendy sighs. “I just want one successful runthrough, is all.”

She’s about to cross out the line with her blue marker when Seulgi’s hand darts out from her side, pulling Wendy’s by the wrist to stop her completely.

“It’s really fine, Wannie,” she says. And if there's one of a few things Seulgi absolutely can't stand, it's seeing dejected looks on any of her best friends’ faces. So she hops off of her seat, promising Wendy to talk to her students before climbing up the theater stage.

“Guys, what seems to be the problem?” Seulgi glances between her two students. “Why can't we get this scene right?”

They must have heard the authority in her tone because Joy turns apologetic while SinB hurries out a mumbled _mianhaeyeo_. They may tease Seulgi to their hearts’ content, but they still hold her to the highest respect. Besides, a serious Kang Seul Gi is never one to mess with _._

“It's my fault Seonsaengnim,” Joy admits, palm rubbing up and down the dark blue sleeve of her uniform’s cardigan. “I keep making her laugh.”

“ _Ani_ , Seonsaengnim.” SinB waves her hands in gesture, turning Seulgi’s attention to her. “It’s mine. I don't think I really know how to act it out? Like, should I flirt back with Joy’s character?”

Seulgi squeezes both their shoulders in acceptance, dismisses the apologies with an understanding smile. Then, she says, “It depends on how you want to play it. We can try different emotions and pick what we think is best.”

“I'd want Viola to flirt back though,” Wendy offers from her spot. “It'd be new and... amusing.”

(So _not_ because she's been shipping Viola and Olivia ever since she first learned about Twelfth night.)

Finally realizing it’s time to take things seriously, SinB cranes her neck to look at Wendy. “Can you show us how you’d like to play it off, Wendy-seonsaengnim?”

“Alright.”

Wendy rises from her seat, too, and then clambers up the stage stairs to stand in front of Joy.

But Joy is admittedly too tall, and there is something very comical about this _difference_ that even Wendy herself thinks she's not going to be able to take the scene seriously.

She's about to tell Seulgi to step in as Olivia for the meantime, but hesitates in the split second after she’s opened her mouth because she can't flirt with her best friend to save her life.

She might end up being worse than SinB, and that doesn’t really bode well with _setting a good example_ , does it?

So, Joy must have to do.

Even though her forehead can only meet the tip of Joy’s chin. (It wasn’t the best decision to wear flats today.)

Even though she has to really tip her head back to meet Joy’s eyes.

Even though Joy is realizing _it_ too, and she’s starting to laugh, and maybe, they’ll never get to finish and she’d have to write the entire scene out.

But Wendy soldiers on, because the clock is ticking and she still has a Netflix queue waiting for her at her apartment.

She raises the script at her eye level, clears her throat to signal the start. But just as she’s about to speak, Moonbyul’s voice echoes from the theater’s doorway, followed by the squeak of more than one pair of shoes against the smooth floor.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late.”

Wendy looks over her shoulder, watching as Moonbyul ambles inside with Yongsun in tow.

And Wendy’s unknowing saving grace.

.

 

The taller woman hops up the stage after she leads Yongsun to the chair Seulgi has vacated a while ago, asking no one in particular, “Where are we?”

Which goes completely ignored by Seulgi because she’s too busy trying to calm her heart that starts hammering at the _hi_ Irene has mouthed at her. So it’s Wendy who answers, “Act three, scene one. We can’t seem to get it right.”

Irene plops down the theater chair next to Yongsun, her eyes roaming around the group of people gathered by the stage. She props an elbow against the chair’s arm, and leans her temple on her fist as her gaze slides back to Seulgi.

A smile works on her face when she catches the younger teacher sneaking a glance at her, which grows into a charmed smirk that tugs at the corner of her mouth as she watches Seulgi smooth the hair shrouding her eyes, as if to hide the fact that she just got caught.

Moonbyul pulls her copy of the play from the back pocket of her jeans, flipping pages until she finds the one Wendy points to.

She lets out an amused _ooooh_ before wagging her her eyebrows at everyone. “We play it flirty, right? Please say we’re gonna play it flirty.”

“That’s the plan. For now, at least,” answers Seulgi, despite the skip her heart makes at the sound of Irene’s tiny giggle making it to her ears, when she and Yongsun laughs at Moonbyul who seems to be too engrossed with the scene’s idea.

“Let’s see it then.” Moonbyul takes a few steps back to give SinB and Joy some room to freely move around, prompting Seulgi and Wendy to do the same.

But SinB throws both her teachers a pleading look, which compels Seulgi to speak up. “Oh, right. They kind of want to see how Wendy wants it to play out.”

Moonbyul hums, mulling it over. “How about this, I’ll be Viola and Wendy can be Olivia?

“ _Ani_ ,” Wendy shakes her head. “I need to look at it from the outside, _unnie_.”

“Oh, good point.” Moonbyul nods in understanding. She then turns to look at Seulgi and opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again and only stares at the younger teacher harder.

Seulgi pulls back a little, raising a hand that she lets hover on her cheeks. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” the other woman says. “I just can’t imagine you as Olivia for some reason.”

A frown slowly creases on Seulgi’s forehead. “Should I be offended?” She scratches at her temple as she throws Moonbyul a quizzical look. “I feel like I should be offended.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Moonbyul quickly defends, because she really didn’t. “I just can’t picture you out as Olivia, and me as Viola pretending to be Cesario.”

Then, she adds, grimacing at the mere thought. “It’s like I’m hitting on my sister or something, even though it’s just acting.”

“You know what, you’re right,” Seulgi agrees. Her face pulls into a wince too, matching the disgust written all over Moonbyul’s face.

Though it quickly changes into a horrified glare at Moonbyul’s next words. “Where is Eun-ae when you need her?”

Wendy pulls the thick script to cover the amused grin shaping on her lips, and the way her nostrils flare as she curbs the urge to break into laughter; while Seulgi debates on throwing hers at Moonbyul’s face to stop her from talking.

“Yah,” Yongsun calls out. And when Seulgi twists around, she meets Irene’s curious eyes. “Why look for someone who’s not here?”

Irene’s about to ask who Eun-ae is, but Yongsun beats her into speaking first. “Juhyun has played Juliet multiple times. I’m sure Olivia won’t be a stretch.” She turns to face Irene, lips quivering as she tries really hard not to smirk. “Right, Juhyun?”

Irene, in turn, drops her chin, suddenly feeling shy from the eyes that are now on her. “It was a long time ago, though.”

“That’s okay,” it’s Moonbyul who answers. She exchanges a series of stares with Yongsun that Seulgi cannot miss, seemingly talking with their eyes, and Seulgi gets the feeling that she’s going to be involved with whatever it is they’re trying to pull.

She’s proven right when Moonbyul continues, backing Yongsun while building her up. “Seulgi had to play Lysander back at our high school because there weren’t a lot of male actors. So Cesario’s gonna be a piece of cake.”

Seulgi plans to protest, to tell Irene that it’s totally okay for her to say no if she doesn’t feel comfortable with the idea. Because she’d rather act opposite Moonbyul no matter how awkward it would be, than make Irene uncomfortable in _any_ way.

But Irene says _yes_ , _okay_ , and she stands from her seat and climbs up the steps; plants herself in front of Seulgi in what feels like a blink.

And now, Seulgi doesn’t know what to do with her racing heart and trembling hands.

.

 

In Wendy’s script, _Olivia_ speaks first, which Irene reads off perfectly from Moonbyul’s copy. “Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by maidhood, honor, truth, and everything, I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.”

Seulgi knows she _needs_ to answer, be Viola pretending to be Cesario. But _I love thee_ has come from Irene’s lips, carried by the lilt in Irene’s soft tone that rings inside her ears like a bell that wouldn’t stop chiming.

She suddenly can’t find her voice, her throat running dry, like a desert in dire need of rain in the form of Irene’s smile.

“I...”

“And that, folks, is how we’re _not_ going to do it,” Moonbyul jumps in a few beats later, when it looks like Seulgi’s brain has abruptly stopped processing anything that isn’t the woman standing in front of her.

Seulgi shakes her head, blinking rapidly until her _everything_ snaps back into attention. “Sorry, sorry!” She hurries out, even bowing to everyone. “I—sorry. Can we start over?”

Irene stretches a worried hand out, running it up and down Seulgi’s shoulder in comfort. “Are you okay, Seul?”

“Y-yeah,” Seulgi replies. She momentarily freezes at the contact, but that doesn’t really stop Irene from easing the tension she can see is pushing down on Seulgi’s shoulders. “I just wasn’t ready, I guess?”

“We’ll give it ago whenever you’re ready, okay?” Irene says. Though, there’s something that flashes in her eyes that’s too quick for Seulgi to discern. Yet, the ensuing smile that forms on Irene’s lips leaves her the feeling that Irene isn’t just talking about acting opposite her.

Seulgi stutters out an _okay_ when she answers, Irene’s fingernails scratching at the edge of her bottom lip as the smaller woman picks _something_ off of it and flicks it away.

“Seulgi,” Wendy calls out. “Are we good?”

The taller woman heaves a deep breath, and then shakes both her arms and her hands out to get rid of the nerves coursing through her system. She blows out the air after, emptying her lungs, and then wears Cesario’s skin in the next breath, every trace of Kang Seul Gi now gone.

Irene matches it easily (there’s a reason why she’s played multiple lead roles back then), and recites the line again. Better, bolder, with a stare that Wendy dares say _smoulders_.

Seulgi doesn’t miss her cue this time. “By innocence I swear, and by my youth, I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth. And that no woman has, nor never none shall mistress be of it, save I alone.”

Irene— _Olivia_ —circles around her. Seulgi chooses her Cesario to stay rooted to her feet, but her gaze follows every step that Irene takes.

Irene stops in front of Seulgi again, though, she’s a step closer than before. A scant distance that she’s given thought at the last minute, as a reflection of how maidens in Shakespeare’s time were taught to act.

“Yet come again, for thou perhaps mayst move that heart,” she says, lets the side of her hand trace the silhouette of Seulgi’s face; quite there but not touching. “Which now abhors, to like his love.”

Seulgi raises her own hand, covering Irene’s; pushes it down gently, and only lets it go once it’s safely back on Irene’s side. Then, she says, “Farewell, My Lady.”

Cesario stupidly rejects Olivia’s love after all.

.

 

From somewhere in the background, Moonbyul whispers towards both SinB and Joy. “I told you guys flirty was the best way to do it.”

Seulgi and Irene have yet to break their eye contact, even though the scene is long over. Wendy even flips back and forth her pages, looking for a line that she thinks she might have missed reading.

But there’s _none_ , and Scene Four really follows Cesario’s last line.

“Betcha ten thousand won, we can leave now and they won’t notice,” Moonbyul adds to her observation (which she really would do, if SinB or Joy takes her up on the deal.

Yet, everyone agrees with her so the bet is basically useless.)

SinB sneaks to where Wendy is, and whispers. “You should totally rewrite the entire play, Wendy-seonsaengnim. Make Viola and Olivia end up together, and then cast Irene-seonsaengnim and Seulgi-seonsaengnim. People won’t notice that you changed the ending.”

Wendy would be lying if she says that _that_ thought didn’t cross her mind at all.

.

 

In the end, it’s Yongsun’s high pitched squeal that breaks _everything_ : the spell that Seulgi and Irene has casted around the room, SinB and Joy’s eardrums, perhaps even the roof of the theater with how loud it is.

Moonbyul rushes down at the other woman’s side, half worried and half laughing as she watches Yongsun put her feet up the theater chair, her sticker-covered Crocs now out for everyone to see. “What? What is it?!”

“There was a mouse!” Yongsun yells. She’s close to tears, Moonbyul can see, but her face is twisted into this funny kind of _terrified_ that she just can’t help but crack up.

Meanwhile, Irene startles at the loud sound, so much that she practically jumps into Seulgi’s personal space, her hands pressing against both her ears to block the noise. While Seulgi’s arms wrap loosely around Irene’s waist in their own accord, steadying her and keeping her in place.

Her fingers lock behind the small of Irene’s back as she bends on her knees a little, coaxing out a frightened Irene in hushed tones and telling her that it was just Yongsun.

Slowly, Irene lifts her head up, greeted by Seulgi’s reassuring smile. She lets both her hands drop listlessly, suddenly feeling tired, and sort of just falls onto Seulgi’s front when her knees buckle.

Her ear is pressed right on Seulgi’s chest. Seulgi swallows nervously, hoping that Irene doesn’t hear how fast is her heartbeat.

...

 

 

Rehearsals for the day ends with Wendy’s _good job today, and thank you everyone_ , but Seulgi’s admittedly still a little worried about Irene despite the other woman’s assurance that she’s totally fine.

So she offers to walk her home again, to which Irene never gets a chance to turn down because it’s Yongsun who answers for her.

(A habit she’s clearly picked up from Moonbyul.)

And here’s where Seulgi is standing now: in front of the gate of Irene’s humble and homey apartment that’s starting to get familiar (a thing Seulgi really, _really_ likes).

“Thank you for walking me home. You really didn’t have to,” Irene says, the fingers hooked on the sling of her shoulder bag curling tighter when Seulgi’s eyes shape into crescents as she smiles.

Seulgi doesn’t say _it’s nothing_ , because anything about Irene is never _nothing_. So instead, she says, “I’ll see you again tomorrow?”

Irene leans on her toes as she bites her bottom lip, then rocks back on her heels. “I’ll bring the coffee?”

“The cheese bread’s mine then,” Seulgi resolves, leaving no room for Irene to disagree. She pockets both her hands as she stares at Irene (rather shamelessly, thank God for the low light), and then whispers, “Good night.”

Irene mumbles a soft _goodnight_ back, smiling fondly at the way Seulgi fishes a hand out to fix her wayward bangs.

But she feels a stronger kind of warmth upon hearing Seulgi’s chuckle. “What?”

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” Seulgi answers in between soft laughs. “That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow.”

Irene playfully shoves Seulgi away, despite the laughter escaping her throat; one that tells Seulgi that she’s rather endeared. “You’re such a dork.”

Seulgi backs a few more steps before extending her hands out, and then curbs it a few inches in front of her stomach and behind her back as she bows in front of Irene, as if she’s some sort of royalty. “Have a good night, My Lady.”

Irene’s laughter grows louder, echoing into the quiet night—a song that Seulgi will never get tired of listening to. “Yah, Kang Seulgi! Stop it.”

“As My Lady wishes.”

“Oh my God.”

.

 

It does not become their thing.

(It totally _does_.)


	4. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're close to this one ending, this is the second to the last chapter (though this was really just supposed to be short). i would like to thank everyone who read, left a kudos and a comment! thanks for sticking to the fic despite me taking a bit long to update. :')

The next weeks pass by in a blur.

Between grading exam papers and getting lost in Irene’s laughs (and Irene’s eyes, and Irene’s smile, and her unique brand of humor, and the many random messages that are filling up her phone these days), Seulgi is now waking up to a buzz of some kind of energy—that she’d never admit are nerves; after all, this will be the first time she and her entire class will share the same space with Irene for close to an hour—which only grows when six thirty am strikes and she’s trudging past the school gates.

Seulgi stops at the bus numbered four, and stands dutifully in front of its doors. Her students have already formed a queue, leaving her with mentally counting and checking in her head as she closely watches them clamber up the vehicle.

She’s at number sixteen when she catches the littlest sign of tied up black hair, and her entire world seemingly grinds into a halt, zeroing in on this moment where she can only watch Irene—she seriously hopes she’s not gawking—walk up to her.

The air has been chilly all week, which explains the leather jacket Irene has on. But Seulgi can’t seem to feel it because Irene’s just a few steps away from her now, and her warmth is enveloping Seulgi more than her favorite hoodie ever could.

And she’s _beaming_ at Seulgi like Seulgi’s the best thing she’s ever seen, her smile soft and warm like sunshine on this cloudy day. It coaxes Seulgi to return the smile in kind.

(She used to think _my own personal sun_ was simply Moonbyul’s play on words.

But now, _now_ , Seulgi thinks she finally gets _it_.)

.

 

“Seonsaengnim, can I get inside now?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. You can, Wheein-ah,” Seulgi distractedly replies, her gaze fleeting from Wheein’s curious face to Irene who has made a quick stop to say hi to Wendy.

She hears a rustle from where Wheein is, the sound of plastic crinkling—like a sticky flap abruptly pulled open—but she pays it no mind. That is until a white thing fills her vision, and when she looks, she figures it’s a few folds of tissue.

A confused frown etches on Seulgi’s forehead as she asks, “Is there something on my face?”

“ _Ne_. A nosebleed.”

“I—wait, what?”

Seulgi’s hand flies to her nose, fingers touching the spot below her nostrils. But it’s completely dry, and when she pulls her hand back to look at it, there’s no red coating her fingertips.

Wheein takes that chance to hightail inside the bus, her cackle ringing in Seulgi’s ears.

“Yah, Jung Wheein!”

.

 

Five minutes and a pounding heartbeat later (because Irene opted to stand next to her than go straight inside), her last student gets accounted for, thankfully with no other stunt pulled.

She supposes she owes it to really good luck that Joy and Yeri were already inside the bus when Irene arrived, and thinks that maybe, this day wouldn’t be so bad—for her, at least. After all, she’s begged and pleaded her class for a week straight to be in their best behavior today, and she at least owes it to them to see it through after they’ve promised they would be.

So Seulgi heaves a deep breath, filling her lungs with air and a little bravado before turning to Irene. She tilts her head, pointing at the bus doors, then, says, “Let’s go?”

Irene nods an _okay_ , and then climbs up the vehicle since Seulgi gestures for her to go first. The younger teacher follows closely, only to be stopped at the space near the shift stick when Irene suddenly halts in her steps.

“Is everything okay?” Seulgi asks, hoping the worry is masked by her steady tone.

(Or more like, praying to every god and saint out there that her students hadn’t done something already, because _Christ_ , it’s only seven in the morning and Seulgi isn’t prepared to face whatever it is, yet.)

“Yes,” Irene is quick to reassure, then, “I just didn’t know it’d be a full ride? Every seat seems to be, uhm, taken.”

Seulgi would ask what she means, but one glance at the back portion of the bus is all it takes to get her answer.

Those twenty something seats that are supposed to be empty now have bags of various sizes occupying each. Even the six-seater row at the farthest end of the bus has a line of bags filling it.

(It’s actually in order of the colors of the rainbow, Seulgi realizes once she gets the chance to _really_ look. Probably minus indigo, but she can’t really tell.

And Seulgi has to swallow the constrained sound desperately wanting to escape from her throat.)

Seulgi’s eyes narrow as she regards the now-lowered heads of her students, half of which are suddenly busy with their phones.

Her gaze lands on her usual suspects: Yeri, whose eyes are closed as she sinks deeper into the seat rest, though Seulgi knows she's not really asleep. Joy is sitting right next to her, too busy tap-tap-tapping on the screen of her phone to spare Seulgi a glance.

Wheein is in the same row as them, already getting started with the chips she's brought with her. Hyejin is mouthing along to the song that's blasting through her earphones.

There's really no way for her to tell whose idea is it this time, and she doesn't get the chance to question them because she hears Irene speak.

“I guess this is us?”

Seulgi turns to look at her, watches as the other woman points at the only empty seats nearest to the door.

“Yeah,” she seconds; there isn’t much of a choice anyway (not that Seulgi’s complaining). And then, she groans. “I'm sorry about them. I honestly have no idea what goes in their minds half the time.”

Irene presses her lips together, suppressing the chuckle that's bubbling up her throat at the sight of Seulgi’s adorable frustrated face. Then, she says, “Kids these days, huh?”

“I know,” Seulgi drawls, drawing the _o_ out; chuckles too when Irene does. And Seulgi has to grip the metal railing tightly just so she won’t do something stupidly romantic. Like, tuck the loose strands of Irene’s hair behind her ear—because she’s close, _oh so close_ —or something equally mortifying.

Instead, she asks, “Do you want to take the window seat?”

She’s rewarded by Irene’s face lighting up at the idea. “Please?”

Seulgi grins at her, one coaxed by Irene’s excited giggle. “It'd be my pleasure.”

And it's then that she realizes she doesn't mind giving _anything_ Irene asks, if it makes Irene smile like this.

Besides, looking at a Bae Juhyun who's enjoying the view doesn't feel like a sacrifice at all.

.

 

It's a pretty short trip from Kaizan High to the theme park, which Seulgi both loves and hates at the same time.

 _Loves_ because her students are starting to get antsy, and an antsy class equals a giant ruckus that Seulgi direly wants to avoid.

 _Hates_ because Seulgi is only finding out that she really wouldn’t mind sitting _this_ close to Irene in hushed silence for hours, where the hands on top of each of their knees are brushing, side to side, skin to skin.

Hates it _even more_ because just as she feels Irene’s hand inch closer—and her own hand follows the movement, and Irene’s pinky finger treads the scant space in between them; slowly at first, the pad of it running over Seulgi’s quite a few times and sending goosebumps all over her skin, until Irene settles on hooking her pinky with Seulgi’s—the bus winds into a stop and Seulgi begrudgingly has to pull away to give last minute instructions to her students.

(She just about died, swears that her heart has broken out of her chest with the way it’s hammering against her ribcage.)

Hates it _most_ , because now she can’t stop wondering what it would feel like to have Irene’s hand in hers.

.

 

With the last minute instructions out of the way, Seulgi finally lets her students go. She watches them rush inside the theme park with a content smile, knowing that she doesn't really have anything to worry about because each one of her kids has a good head on their shoulders.

It doesn't really come as a surprise when her class follows everything she's said down to the last word; from filing out of the bus in a line, to forming a straight queue as they get stamped at the entrance.

They're good kids despite the silly things they pull (though Seulgi has an inkling that they've taken the _best behavior_ spiel to heart).

A large group of them heads straight to the roller coaster ride, with SinB and Sowon leading it. The remaining group goes to the bump car queue, which includes Joy who's wearing this saccharine smile on her face, as if she can't wait to plow through every single car in the track.

They leave Seulgi to her own devices with a hurried _later, Seulgi-seonsaengnim_ , and the fate of her heart to Irene’s hands.

.

 

“So… where do you wanna go first?”

Irene hums, tilting her head as she studies the giant map near the entrance. “I don't really know. How about you?”

A shrug rolls off Seulgi’s shoulders. “I'm good with anything, really. We can try whichever ride you want.”

At that, Irene spins around, and Seulgi doesn't know what to make of her playful smirk. “Anything?”

Seulgi tries really, really hard to just nod casually, but ultimately, she fails.

“What if I say I don't want any rides? I just want a stuffed bunny, or a teddy bear?”

Oh.

Irene’s eyebrow arches to match the quirk tugging at the corner of her lips, which has Seulgi blinking blankly at her for a good long second.

 _Oh_.

But when her words finally sink in, Seulgi drops her chin, blushing at the implication. Though, she means it when she looks at Irene from under her lids, and says, “I'd say it's pretty lucky that I have a mean throw.”

.

 

But her luck decides to run out at the most inopportune moment, and Seulgi honestly can’t believe it.

Either that, or she just really sucks at knocking the milk bottles over. ( _The ball was really soft, Hyun! It’s not gonna knock over_ anything.)

Or popping balloons with darts. ( _The tips were blunt! I tried touching them and it didn’t even hurt!_ )

Or tossing rings onto the small poles. ( _The poles were too far!_ )

Or beating the high score on the free throw game. ( _I don’t really play basketball?_ )

Seulgi can’t help but sulk as she leaves the shoot-a-duck booth, still empty handed, and now with an even lighter wallet.

It doesn’t help her confidence either when Irene welcomes her back with a snicker, no matter how cute she looks in those tiny bunny ears headband they’ve bought from one of the novelty stalls.

It shoots further down as they come across Moonbyul and Yongsun, the latter hugging a marill plush toy fresh from the crane machine, in the arm that isn’t hooked around Moonbyul’s. (Seulgi _knows_ where exactly it’s from. How could she not, when she’s failed in that one too.)

She hangs her head in shame, and briefly considers hightailing it back to their bus when Moonbyul sends a huge thumbs up and a knowing smirk her way as they pass them by.

But a hand on her wrist stops her from taking _that_ step, and she’s instead tugged into the opposite direction of the theme park’s exit, straight towards the row of various street sweets.

Irene leads her to a vintage-looking cotton candy machine, her eyes twinkling at the sight of the purple confection currently being swirled into the stick.

She gestures _one_ at the woman making the candy, and rocks back on her heels as she waits for the cotton candy lady to finish.

When she does, Irene turns to Seulgi, raising the candy in between them. “Here.”

Seulgi eyes it with confusion, but Irene only shrugs and then says, “You looked really bummed.”

“Oh,” Seulgi breathes out. She feels the tips of her ears heat, and she’s again thankful that she chose to wear her hair down today. “Thanks. And uhm, sorry I couldn’t get you a stuffed bunny.”

“I wasn’t really being serious about it, you know?”

“ _Mwo_?”

“But it was sweet,” Irene murmurs. Her eyes dart all over, refusing to look at Seulgi’s own, and in the end settles her gaze at the candy still in between them. “How you kept on trying. And I...”

Seulgi tilts her head, eyes growing soft at the bashfulness that’s giving Irene’s thoughts away. “You what?”

“I really didn’t want you to stop.”

“Yeah?”

Irene nods, raising the cotton candy even higher to hide her face. It doesn’t really work because Seulgi’s taller and she still sees the pink dusting her cheeks, but Seulgi simply slides her hand against Irene’s to get her to look.

There’s a shift in the air— _their_ air—where Seulgi doesn’t tease Irene, _at all_ , even though she normally would (like she does these days). She just smiles at Irene, the fondness dancing in her lips sticking as she laces their fingers together; gives it a light squeeze when she says, “I’ll ask Byulyi-unnie to teach me her tricks, so I can get you one next time.”

Irene doesn’t speak, but the tight squeeze she returns Seulgi’s touch with says more than what she can ever say in words.

.

 

The cotton candy’s long gone by the time they pass by the roller coaster ride, and if Seulgi strains her ears, she swears she can hear Joy and Yeri screaming their lungs out.

Oh what she'd give to capture that moment on video.

Her feet, though, grow a mind of their own, treading towards the fairly short queue. But she’s met with some form of resistance: Irene’s hand—that she hasn’t (doesn’t plan to) let go of—pulling her right back.

So Seulgi turns to ask, sounding uncertain. “Juhyun?”

“Are we—are we going to ride that?”

“Yeah!” Seulgi says. “It looks fun, don’t you think?”

Irene eyes the ride, and then the people that are starting to trickle out of the ride’s exit, with trepidation written all over her face. It only grows when she sees Bogum stumble out, a hand cupped on his mouth and the other pressed against his stomach.

“Seulgi, are you sure we’re really going to?”

Seulgi’s about to say _yes_ , but the sight of Bogum running towards the nearest trash bin quickly changes her mind. “You know what,” Seulgi starts to say, then, she turns around, pulling Irene with her. “I heard Magic Land is pretty epic. We should go check that out.”

Irene pouts just thinking about the amount of walking her already tired feet have to do to get there. And she doesn’t, _doesn’t_ mean to whine when she tells Seulgi this, but, she does. “But that’s on the other side of the park.”

They’ve been strolling around aimlessly for a long while now, so it’s no wonder that Irene’s feet are starting to hurt.

Seulgi balls the fingers of her free hand into a fist, and tells herself to look away from Irene’s lips or she might do something she’d regret for the rest of her existence.

So she lets her eyes scour around for a good place to rest, until she finds an empty bench a few steps away from where they are standing, right under the cool shade of a sturdy-looking tree.

She leads Irene towards that bench, plopping right next to her, though still with a respectful distance.

“Tired?” She can't help but ask when Irene breathes out a sigh.

“A little,” Irene admits. “You?”

Seulgi perches their clasped hands on her lap, and then grins. “Hungry.”

“Of course you are, Seul.”

.

 

She volunteers to buy hotdog sandwiches for them both, despite Irene saying that she isn't really hungry.

Seulgi claims that their theme park adventure isn't really complete without consuming something that's from a food stand, and she only wants to give Irene the full, genuine experience.

Her fingers lazily drum against her thigh as she waits for the hotdogs to fry, eyes wandering around (though her gaze almost always trains back to Irene).

She smiles at the sight of a little girl pulling the string of her red balloon like it's a kite, smiles wider when she sees Irene give Wheein and Hyejin an animated wave; frowns when her gaze falls on a young boy sneaking past a ride queue that he's clearly not allowed to go on.

Frowns more as Irene leans back as far as her body can allow, aimlessly swatting at the air to drive some sort of insect away.

Frowns _even more_ when her peripheral catches Joy and Yeri running towards something with matching smirks on their faces.

“What are you two up to now,” Seulgi grumbles under her breath. She's about to follow her two students, but the food stand guy says that her sandwiches are done, leaving her with no choice but to take them in her hands and head back to their bench.

.

 

“I think I just saw Joy and Yeri,” Irene says by way of greeting, wincing in uncertainty as she continues, “and I’m quite sure that that was Bogum-ssi they were dragging with them.”

She mumbles a shy _thanks_ when Seulgi hands her one of the sandwiches.

The younger teacher cranes her neck, looking at the spot she last saw the two. But it's starting to get dark, and Seulgi doesn't really have the most perfect eyesight to begin with, so she sees nothing significant.

Seulgi’s left to shrugging it off, and then takes her first bite.

Irene takes a bite, too, off her own bun, in this really elegant and graceful way that sort of makes Seulgi feel like a slob (and totally cheap because Irene is fancy dinners and expensive wine, while she’s tteokbokki and hweori gamja in the streets).

But she smiles at Seulgi mid-chew, her twinkling eyes almost disappearing. Like the food doesn't matter to her at all, only the company, and Seulgi feels herself tumble past that edge she's been teetering at for the past seven and a half months.

The park lights light up, so does Irene’s face as she watches the entire place slowly be brought to a luminous life.

In turn, Seulgi watches the iridescent rays through Irene’s eyes, feels herself swallow at the awe and excitement that grows at the tug of Irene’s lips.

The lamp post right next to the bench they’re sitting at is the last to turn on, but its light hits Irene so perfectly that Seulgi can only stare at her, slack jawed and completely out of words.

 _This_ little bit of new (is it really?) detail soars up, from the _dub-dub_ of her heart to the back of her throat.

Because she realizes she wants to do _this_ , sit right next to Irene for hours without really doing anything; maybe fill the air floating in between with borrowed words.

( _I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands, the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses_ , she'd start to say, bring E.E Cummings to life.

And then, maybe, she'd have gathered her _own_ words by the end of it, about how she'll never stop finding new ways to be awed by Irene each minute.)

The _lub-dub_ of her heart doubles—triples even—when Irene reaches out to wipe off the bit of ketchup at the corner of her mouth that she hasn't noticed.

Irene has pulled a wet wipe from her bag, and has cleaned the sauce off of her face with this smile that Seulgi swears is _fond_ and _tender_ , and Seulgi feels her thoughts slide to the tip of her tongue.

Falling in love with a girl in the middle of a theme park isn't the kind of story her favorite writers would write novels about. But falling in love with the girl with the most beautiful heart _is_ , and it's beautiful, so, _so_ beautiful; a Pulitzer, Nobel Peace and Christmas rolled into one.

.

 

They're all back at the bus once seven thirty hits. Seulgi stands in front again to check if everyone’s on board—it's really not that far-fetched that one of her students will give her the slip just to stay longer—and taps the bus driver on his shoulder to tell him that it's good to go.

She settles next to a sleepy Irene, giddiness almost spilling out of her when Irene shifts on her seat and scoots closer.

Irene’s shoulder presses against Seulgi’s, though her head lolls to the side as she tries to fight the sleep off.

Seulgi, for her part, just wants to pull her closer, lay Irene’s head on her shoulder and tell her to just go to sleep.

Yet even that is too intimate, isn’t it, for two people who have been dancing around _that_ line—where everything is uncertain and nothing is ever sure—the same line Seulgi swore years ago that she’d never ever go near again.

But fate has a different plan and the bus lurches into a sudden stop; Irene jerks awake, completely startled that she seems to fold in on herself. Though, she seeks shelter on Seulgi’s side, and hides her face at the crook of Seulgi’s neck.

Seulgi feels her heart swell ten folds, and the urge to protect Irene from _anything_ washes over her as she gently shushes the other woman.

“Go back to sleep, Hyun-ah.”

And that’s how Seulgi knows she just blew it.


	5. four

Sunday is spent trying to swim back to reality, from that truth she just admitted to herself mere days before, and the weekend she’s currently spending in her apartment while constantly exchanging messages with Irene who’s back at Daegu for a quick visit.

They’re now in the middle of some sort of photo war, where they send each other the most random pictures they can think about.

Seulgi has just snapped a selca of her with two pieces of Pringles tucked in her mouth, on top of each other like a beak. She sends it to Irene as a reply to the photo of Irene’s hands cutting some cabbages up, captioned: _cannibalism_?

(She’d spent the better part of five minutes laughing at that, even though she’s seen it coming all the way from Daegu.

 _Heol_ , she has it bad.)

Seulgi puts her phone down, and then glances at the clock hanging on her wall. It’s just four minutes after ten in the morning, but she still boots up her laptop and navigates to the closed group she and her advisory class have on Facebook (no one ever uses the school’s student portal); clicks on the _status_ box and starts typing.

 _Fyi, we’re moving to the Roman Era starting this Monday_ , her message to the class goes. _Please do some advance reading on the deities, especially the twelve great gods_.

Seulgi’s just about to attach the reading materials when a new post appears. _Kim Yerimie_ pops up on her screen, and for a boatload of _known_ reasons, Seulgi’s heart pops _out_ of her chest.

(She wants to think that it’s just pure coincidence that Yeri’s suddenly on Facebook the same time she got on. But _it’s_ Yeri, so, _yeah_ , probably not.)

Seulgi scrolls down to put the post in the middle of her screen, and _yet_ , when she finally sees it, she wishes she hadn’t, because ignorance would be such a welcomed bliss at a time like _this_.

It wasn’t her fault that she was tired that night, and that Irene felt so warm against her side, and that the scent of Irene’s hair had her drowning straight into the state of half-asleep that she inevitably fell into.

It wasn’t her fault that her cheek landed on the crown of Irene’s hair, and that her arm snaked lazily around Irene’s waist, and that they looked all cuddled up like this.

No one was going to be the wiser, but Yeri just had to be Satan’s spawn at that moment and just had to snap a picture of them.

And now the entire class is going to see it—if they already haven't—and Seulgi’s going to have to endure the endless teasing till God knows when.

 _Hi all_ , the post reads, when Seulgi finally has gotten the will to look away.

(They looked cute, so much so that Seulgi feels the flutter in her heart grow stronger the longer she stares.)

 _Please study the perfection of this photo_ , the rest of it says. Seulgi can only shake her head, and thank the universe that it's a closed group that Irene isn't a part of.

But she does leave a comment, full naming Yeri to rattle her a little (in the slightest off chance; Yeri doesn't seem to get rattled by anything). _I don't see how this is related to any of your subjects, Miss Kim Yerim._

Three dots appear as Yeri types a reply; Seulgi briefly contemplates the kind of murder she'd get away with, and if Moonbyul and Wendy would help her hide the body.

There's a telltale _ping_ as the reply to her comment appears below. _It's for science_ , _Seonsaengnim_. _Introduction to Chemistry._

Another one follows, and Seulgi _so_ does not laugh out loud.

_Disliking won't get you anywhere, Chewy._

Really though, Seulgi won't trade her students for the world.

...

 

 

Or maybe, she will.

Especially when the words _So Joy just showed me a very interesting picture_ are staring right back at her, with _Juhyun_ as the name of the sender.

Seulgi’s face twists into a horrified grimace as she wonders what her _beloved_ students have done now.

She’s almost afraid to tap on the notification preview and pull the entire message up, but it's Irene, and the magnitude of Seulgi’s feelings for her is way more stronger than everything else.

So she presses on, half of her brain already stringing excuses that would hold enough to get her out of any mortifyingly sticky situation.

The message only _does_ say what she's already read, though. Nothing follows it, so Seulgi thumbs a quick _yeah?_ with her heart up in her throat.

She's admittedly already expecting to see the same photo on Yeri’s post—Joy and her aren't dubbed the Satan twins for nothing—when the gray square pops up. (The few seconds it takes to load the photo may or may not be the longest in Seulgi’s young life.)

And when it does appear, Seulgi sort of just wants to disappear off the face of the earth because Joy just had to send a screen capture of Yeri’s entire post—caption and all. Satan twins indeed.

 _Upon studying the perfection of this photo_ , Irene’s next message reads. Seulgi feels the tips of her ears burn, and her knees buckle even though she’s already sitting and Irene isn’t even anywhere near. _I’ve come to the conclusion that we look cute_.

Her mouth falls open at that, jaw dropping straight to the floor. The message leaves her completely floundering that all she can do is fire an _oh my god_ as a reply, which she barely even manages to do with how bad her fingers are shaking.

Yet, her _everything_ trembles as she gets a new one that goes: _you know what’s even more cute?_

And with it is a different photo—more of Seulgi alone than the two of them together that Yeri, the Devil Incarnate must’ve sent to Irene for kicks—and she looks like a bear ready to hibernate at any given moment.

Seulgi feels her head swell, like there’s suddenly air _everywhere_ and she could either float away or explode. One of which is honestly a better option than what is happening right now.

She’s left staring at the picture as the seconds tick by and the three dots do not appear inside the message box. It’s a really unflattering picture of her, Seulgi loaths to admit, the bear ears plopped askew on top of her head that it looked like she had three ears instead of four.

The only good thing about it is that her mouth wasn’t hanging open or anything, and her nose wasn’t scrunched the way it usually is when she sleeps. Her eyes were completely closed too, not half open, or _worse_ completely open while she was asleep, and Seulgi finds herself sending a silent thank you to the powers that be for that.

Still, it’s incredibly _unflattering_ , and Seulgi honestly has no idea why Irene would set it as her phone’s lock screen wallpaper—

 _—Wait_.

Seulgi taps on the picture again with a (violently) shaking thumb, _pinches out_ the bottom part with two fingers to bring that portion of the image closer.

And there, _below_ , scrawled across her picture’s upper torso, Seulgi sees the familiar metallic glint of _Slide to unlock_ , and her heart races so fast like it wants to leap out of her chest, run its way to Daegu and jump straight into Irene’s hands, all the while screaming _it’s yours, it’s yours right from the start_.

...

 

 

Monday comes with a feeling of dread that rolls in Seulgi’s stomach, dropping into the pit of her gut.

Granted, Irene’s done nothing but tease her all night, and all she can do in retaliation was send unamused stickers and emojis, all the while trying not to spew her anxiety out, or _worse_ , her feelings.

(She doesn’t have any pictures of Irene, _okay_? And she refuses to grab even one from any of Irene’s barely updated SNS accounts just to get back at her.

She may be a woman in love, but Kang Seul Gi is _not_ a creepy stalker.)

Last night feels like she and Irene have crossed the line they’ve been dancing around, at some point between staying up with Irene until it’s two past midnight and she’s safely tucked in her bed at her apartment in Seoul, and agreeing to meet for breakfast first thing in the morning (or five hours after Irene has bid her goodnight, really).

So here is Seulgi, standing outside the cafe six minutes away from Kaizan High, her black messenger bag hooked on her shoulder as she patiently waits for Irene.

She’s earlier than the time they’re supposed to meet, because her brain has refused to let her sleep, and there really wasn’t anything left to do but prepare for work and for _this_ once six am had hit.

Though, she spots Irene just two minutes after getting there, looking ethereal in this flowy, blue flower-patterned dress she has donned that falls a few inches past her knees.

She’s early just like Seulgi is, and she’s smiling at her like she _missed_ her, and now Seulgi can’t honestly remember what she has been dreading about that kept her up all night.

Not when Irene takes her by the hand and pulls her inside the cafe, and Irene’s melodious laugh fills her ears as she tells Seulgi the story about how her younger brother careened down the hill while trying to to teach her how to ride a bike.

...

 

 

“You look different today, Seonsaengnim,” Yeri says just as Seulgi wraps up their Homeroom period.

Seulgi looks up from the stack of books she's gathering in her arms, throws the younger girl a puzzled look. “I do?”

Yeri hums, tilting her head. She grins at Seulgi next, then, says, “You look like you had some Iodine, Rhenium and Neon in your system.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Seulgi answers. “And I'm no science expert, but I'm pretty sure Neon is poison.”

From beside Yeri, Joy singsongs. “I told you she's not going to get it.”

She thinks Yeri is about to give up, but the younger girl simply swings her crossed leg, and if anything, her grin grows wider. “Seonsaengnim, you should ask a Science teacher.”

“ _Aish_ , you kids,” Seulgi grumbles goodnaturedly. “Enough with the meddling, okay? Go easy on Irene-ssi today. She’s probably still tired from her weekend in Daegu.”

A titter rolls across the classroom, with Wheein’s snicker being the loudest. Seulgi, for her part, frowns as she stares at her students, wondering what it is now.

But it doesn’t take long for her to find out, when Hyejin _innocently_ —though her smile is anything but—asks, “How did you know Irene-seonsaengnim spent her weekend in Daegu?”

Seulgi pulls the pile of books close to her chest, like it's some sort of shield that will protect her from SinB’s knowing smirk that flies from the back of the room all the way to the front.

She holds her head high, refusing to meet anyone's gaze as she replies, “It's for me to know, and for none of you to ever find out.”

.

 

She walks out of her classroom with her head held high and, thankfully, still with her pride intact despite the furious blush she leaves in her wake.

Irene meets her by the door, ready to start her lessons with her favorite class. Seulgi tries really hard not to beam at her or something, but her lips tug of their own accord.

(Seulgi thinks she barely even owns anything now. Irene’s got Seulgi’s _everything_ : her head where Irene keeps on running, her students’ affection, that space in her heart that only two people have ever managed to fill.

And now she’s got her own Seulgi _smile_ , the kind that pulls Seulgi’s cheeks up as her nose scrunches, eyes disappearing behind crescent lids.)

“Hey,” greets Irene. She raises a hand, pinky finger carefully brushing the stray locks of Seulgi’s hair away from her eyes.

Seulgi’s grip on her books loosens, fingers uncurling around the spines as she quickly turns putty in Irene’s soft touch.

“How are the kids today?”

“Hopefully a little calmer,” Seulgi answers, and she can't help the smile that surfaces at the little bit of Satoori that slips out of Irene’s tone (she's always like this after spending a weekend back home, her accent sticking around for at least a day).

She chances a glance over her shoulder next, to look at her students—well to check on Joy, really. “It’s Monday after all.”

(Her students tend to go crazier as the days of a school week passes; Mondays are the most peaceful they’d ever get.)

Irene follows her gaze, leaning a little to the side as she looks past the glass windows and hums. “How does a pop quiz sound?”

Seulgi yells out a _ha_ that sounds triumphant, as if it’s some sort of revenge that Irene’s enacting on her behalf; tacks on a _fantastic_ that sounds a little too gleeful for simply being a co-teacher’s opinion.

.

 

She’s about to head to her own first class when Yeri’s words rings in her ears again. And so, Seulgi spins around at the last second, then calls out, “Hyun-ah?”

Irene retracts the hand reaching for _3D_ ’s door and looks over her shoulder, smiling at Seulgi. “Yes, Seul?”

Seulgi pockets both of hers as she looks shyly at the other woman. She would have not asked, but Science has never been her forte, and she’d rather know what Yeri was exactly talking about, especially if it involved chemical elements. “Do you know what Iodine, Rhenium and Neon make? Is it some kind of chemical combination formula thingy?”

Irene bites at her bottom lip. She lets the hand hovering above the door handle fall limply at her side, and then turns around to face Seulgi completely. “Why do you ask?”

Seulgi shrugs, feigning nonchalance even though she wants to just outright say it that Yeri may or may not be planning to blow something up—or God forbid, _someone_. So she says, “Just curious.”

The other woman hums, eyes narrowing playfully. Seulgi’s lips curl in turn, and then purse, her own eyes darting in different directions just so she won’t meet Irene’s gaze.

Irene chuckles at that. Then, she says, “It’s me, Seul.”

“Sorry?”

“It spells Irene,” she explains, which she finds hard with the way the corner of her lips are tugging into an amused smile at the burst of redness that fills Seulgi’s cheeks. “Well, their periodic symbols, at least.”

Honestly, Seulgi would rather have Yeri blow something up rather than melt into a puddle under Irene’s teasing gaze.

...

 

 

Spring comes, and with it is the festival season. Seulgi has spent their entire homeroom periods the past two days choosing a theme for this year’s festival and planning with her students.

Most of the other class advisers had left their students to work on their own, but Seulgi isn’t like _most_ advisers, and her kids aren’t like _most_ students.

Already, she’s had to shut down a carnival-themed horror house idea twice, partly because she can already see her students having _too_ much fun with it, and partly because Irene is deathly afraid of clowns.

It’s the same reason she laid out to her students those two times they raised it: Wheein’s idea first that she never suggested again; seconded by Tzuyu as she reasoned out that Irene could always go with Bogum anyway.

(And now that's never going to happen. _Bless_ those class adviser authority perks.)

But today, Seulgi’s seriously contemplating skipping Homeroom period altogether. A decision that’s solidifying each passing second that she sits in front of a sneezing Irene, in their now usual spot in this hole in the wall cafe they’ve been going to for breakfast for months now.

“You should’ve stayed home, Juhyun,” Seulgi says. She fishes a couple of tissues from the box Irene has brought with her, and hands them to the other woman.

Irene mumbles a stuffed _thanks_ , and despite the constant sneezing, she musters a smile upon hearing the worry in Seulgi’s tone.

“You know I can’t, Seulgi-ah,” she defends before turning to her side and blowing her nose out as gently and as quietly as she can.

Seulgi doesn’t even flinch or grimace. Instead, she looks at Irene—all runny eyes and a red nose—like she wants to swaddle her up in the warmest of blankets, sit on the softest couch with her and watch food documentaries until they both fall asleep.

“Exams are just around the corner and I need to make sure all of my students get the right amount of review time. Besides, it’s just hay fever. It’ll pass.”

The younger teacher sighs, knowing that Irene is right. Still, that doesn’t mean she likes that Irene is pushing herself to her limits.

And _yes_ , she knows Irene is her own person—a very, very independent woman who can make decisions for her own self—but Seulgi loves her. Seulgi _loves_ her, even though Irene doesn’t know that (yet), and she can’t stand seeing her sick, looking like she’d pass out at any given minute.

So Seulgi asks—implores, really—one more time. “Are you sure, Hyun-ah?”

Irene nods, determined. “It’s too late to find a substitute anyway.”

“Alright,” she concedes, reaching a hand out to wipe the tear that trickles down from Irene’s puffy eyes, the pad of her thumb grazing from that spot and to the curve of Irene’s cheek. “But let me know if you start feeling real bad, okay? Like, text me or something.”

“Yes, dear,” Irene says. It’s teasing, but the way she leans into Seulgi’s cool, gentle touch is anything but.

.

 

Homeroom is a quiet affair, set in a different tone because Seulgi looks _actually_ serious for once. Her voice is too, when she tells the entire class, “Irene-ssi is feeling real sick today. So please take it easy on her.”

“ _Ne_ , Seonsaengnim,” SinB assures, picking up on Seulgi’s mood right away.

“Seonsaengnim,” Yeri calls, in a worried tone of voice that Seulgi hears from her probably for the first time ever. “Should I go down to the clinic and get her some medicine?”

Seulgi tilts her head as she tries to remember if Irene has taken any medicine this morning. Though, she’s quite sure that Irene had not, because she knows that Irene hates the bitter taste of it.

“No, I’ll do it,” she answers, smiling softly at Yeri. “But thank you, Yeri-ah.”

The period still has a few minutes to spare, but, her normally lively class has turned quiet, as if they’re all collecting themselves to make sure that they don’t give Irene one bit of a headache.

(They’ve never done so, Seulgi knows this. Still, seeing them act this way makes her love her students even more.)

Even a usually loud Joy has her voice toned down when she says, “My mom gives me ginger tea when I’m sick, Seonsaengnim. Maybe that would help?”

Seulgi nods and thanks Joy too, promising to check their cafeteria out for any ginger tea. Though she already has an inkling that she’d have to drop by the convenience store that’s a good ten minutes away from the school.

But it’s _Irene_. Seulgi doesn’t really care if the cure is on the other side of the world.

.

 

When she comes into view and Seulgi sees her through the glass windows, it takes quite a herculean effort—that Seulgi doesn’t really know where she’s dug deep from—not to run towards a sluggishly walking Irene.

She does widen her strides though, meeting Irene halfway as she turns in the hallway leading to class _3D_ ’s room.

Irene looks even more lethargic than Seulgi’s last seen her, and that was just twenty two minutes ago. Her arms are trembling from the papers sandwiched in between, and the dainty weight of the tote bag slung on her shoulder.

“Here, let me help,” Seulgi offers right away. Irene doesn’t fight it, letting Seulgi take the papers and her bag from her.

She follows Seulgi inside the classroom, greeting her students with a smile she now has to force, what with her entire body suddenly feeling like lead that’s too heavy to carry.

Her throat has gone even more scratchy now too, evident in the _hey guys_ she says that comes out in a husk.

Seulgi sets Irene’s things on top of the desk, and then quietly whispers, “Text me after your class ends, okay? I’ll take you to your next one.”

“Okay.”

She’s barely able to resist pressing a palm on Irene’s cheek to gauge her temperature, leaving the room before she does something worse, like planting a kiss on her forehead because she’s heard that _that_ works better.

...

 

 

Irene admittedly has no idea how she’s going to last throughout the day feeling like this. But she’s a teacher, and there are thirty two eager—yet worried—faces waiting for her to speak, so she soldiers on.

Yet, it’s not even fifteen minutes since she’s started her lesson, and there’s already a knock on the classroom door.

Irene nods at Yerin to open it. Seulgi’s head pops up in the ample space between the door and its frame as it creaks open, scratching the back of her neck when she realizes that thirty three sets of eyes are all on her.

“Uhm, can I borrow Irene-ssi for a minute?”

Irene caps the marker back on and then sets it down, a sign that she’s taking the invitation. She follows Seulgi out of the room, past the hallway, and turns into a poorly secluded corner.

(Seulgi knows that her students can still see the two of them, but she can’t really have Irene wander far from the room.)

“Is everything okay?” Irene asks, though her voice fades at the end and Seulgi sort of wants to pick a fight with mother nature for sprinkling pollens all over the lovely Spring.

“Yeah, but,” Seulgi starts to say, then, she lifts the small brown paper bag she’s carrying in her hands, and fishes out the mat of medicine tablets she got from the clinic. (With Doctor Hwang’s approval of course, after she has ensured that she has described all of Irene’s symptoms down to a tee.) “You should really take some medicine to help make you feel better.”

Irene stares at the small white tablets, face twisting into a grimace as she imagines the bitterness it will leave in her tongue. She looks up at Seulgi, pouting her way out of it. “Do I have to?”

It doesn’t really take effect, because while Seulgi’s always going to be weak for Irene’s pouts, her concern for Irene’s welfare beats that. “Yes,” the younger teacher says, stern and firm.

Irene grumbles like a little kid being forced to eat her green peas, and Seulgi has to clamp her lips together to stop herself from breaking into a giggle.

She hands Irene the mat, and watches her like a hawk while her hands twist a warm bottle of water open. She gives it to Irene next, that the other woman drinks right away to swallow the medicine and wash off the taste.

Seulgi chucks the now empty bottle back into the paper bag to throw away later, and then tucks the medicine mat in the back pocket of her jeans. She shrugs her dark blue coat off next, the one she's snagged from her chair at the faculty room as soon as she’s noted the way Irene has been trying to suppress a shiver since this morning.

She drapes it around Irene’s shoulders, the hem falling past Irene’s waist that she looks even smaller now.

(Still the prettiest, though.)

Irene blinks, eyeing the coat with an astonished look. “B-but…” she starts to say, though ultimately, she fails.

Seulgi raises one brow in confusion. “But what?”

“What about you?”

“I’m okay,” she reassures. “You need it more than I do.”

Irene opens her mouth to answer, yet nothing comes out. She swallows visibly, and feels like she should be swooning now or something, because, _really_.

Yet, her silence sends Seulgi into a nervous ramble. “Unless you know... you think that you don't need it. I can take it back.”

Irene shifts her gaze and looks at Seulgi. Her throat closes up, and she honestly can’t tell if it’s the tenderness in Seulgi’s eyes, or the fever that's starting to get to her head, or just _everything_ that has happened in between them that’s taking all of the air away, making her heart turnover beneath her chest.

“Juhyun?”

“I think,” Irene’s breaths start to get uneven, her clammy hands clutching at the lapels of Seulgi's coat as she pulls them to a close. “I t-think...”

“Hyun-ah,” Seulgi begins to worry. “Are you okay?”

“I think I love you.”

.

 

Seulgi stands open mouthed and wide eyed. Irene catches herself completely by surprise.

It’s been five minutes—five grueling minutes—and Seulgi’s still standing there like she’s been smacked right in the face, _unblinking_.

Irene feels her eyes sting, her throat suddenly running dry in a way that does not stem from her allergies at all.

Seulgi doesn’t even look like she’s breathing, and Irene feels like slapping herself for blurting it out unthinkingly. For blurting it out just like that, when she’s been careful all this time so as not to scare Seulgi away.

Irene lowers her head; swallows real hard when she feels her heart lodge itself in her throat, and she frankly can’t tell whether she’s sad or disappointed or humiliated with Seulgi’s lack of response.

The air around them feels thicker, and Irene knows she somehow needs to escape; a breather, so she says, “I should go.” She starts to move. “I need to get back to class.”

Though, it’s the only thing Seulgi needs to snap out of whatever state of mind she’s just gotten into. She quickly grabs Irene by the hand to stop her from completely walking away, fingers wrapping around Irene’s wrist in the most gentle of ways.

“Wh—what was that?” She finally speaks, with a certain sense of urgency that Irene doesn’t miss.

Irene's completely hesitant—Seulgi can feel it from the way she shakes Seulgi’s hand off of hers—understandably so because she feels that she’s said something she can't ever repeat to anyone ever again.

If it’s those _three_ words is what she assumes Seulgi is talking about, she’d refuse because she honestly feels like she’s embarrassed herself for ten lifetimes already.

“Can you say it again?” Seulgi repeats when Irene just gazes at her wordlessly, eyes completely wide and glistening with the tears stubbornly resisting her efforts of pushing them back.

Seulgi looks _too_ stunned and in complete disbelief, like she has just witnessed Irene sprouting another head, and Irene honestly doesn't know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The younger teacher’s expression doesn’t really give anything away—though the way Seulgi’s mouth falls open as her forehead crumples while she blinks at her nonstop doesn’t really instill confidence—so Irene presses her lips together and drops her gaze onto the floor, at the spot where her right foot meets the tip of Seulgi’s shoe.

She’d have to move away, Irene starts to think, or avoid Seulgi like a plague throughout the rest of her stay at Kaizan High. She’d have to come a minute or two late to her classes with _3D_ , and spend lunches alone in the faculty break room that no one ever uses.

She’d have to get breakfast at home now.

And make bentos for one.

Go back to walking home by herself, and not read the sweetest lines from Neruda at random times of the day.

Sleep without a _goodnight_ that lights up her phone every night.

To put it simply, she’d have to learn how to live without Seulgi, and _God_ , Irene has no idea how on earth she’s going to do that when she’s been living for Seulgi’s smiles for months now.

The thought has her swallowing down a choked sob—she’s still in the middle of an open hallway after all; granted it’s empty, but it’s _open_ , and she’s sure that Seulgi’s students will find a way to listen in—though if anyone asks, she’s going to blame the haze of her fever clouding her brain.

“A-are you crying, Juhyun?” Seulgi says, eyes growing wide along with the panic that weaves through her tone.

Irene shakes her head in answer, and lets the movement ruffle her hair so that it falls like a curtain over her face.

She likes to think that she has been successful in hiding, but then there’s a sniffle that betrays all of her effort, and the next thing Irene knows, she’s being engulfed in warmth, encased in strong yet gentle arms and surrounded by Seulgi’s scent.

Mumbled apologies fill her ears as she hears Seulgi’s soft voice. “Oh my God, I’m sorry!”

Irene feels a hand run up and down her back, the warmth of Seulgi’s palm seeping through the coat and shooting a jolt straight to Irene’s spine, making her shudder.

Seulgi takes _it_ —takes the shake of Irene’s shoulders as her crying even more, so she pulls her impossibly closer, and guides Irene’s head to rest at the crook of her neck.

“ _Mianhaeyo_ ,” she says, in the softest tone of voice she can muster. “I thought I was dreaming. I thought I heard you wrong, Hyun.”

Irene heaves a deep, uneven breath: partly due to her colds; mostly due to the tightness still squeezing her chest.

Though, she feels ensuing chapped lips press against her temple, and it’s only then that the weight starts to ease off of her ribcage.

Yet as she feels her body shift, as she feels Seulgi sway the both of them in a slow circle, the weight chips away in time with the beats and the thrums of her heart.

Until it all ebbs away just as Seulgi’s lips slide to the top of her head.

It gives Irene enough certainty to pull back and look at Seulgi. But when she moves, Seulgi groans in protest, making some kind of noise that Irene has no face to match with as she disentangles herself from the taller girl.

(But Seulgi doesn’t let her go completely. She makes sure that the hands wrapped around Irene’s waist stay, sure and steady as her fingers meet at the small of Irene’s back.)

And when she finally meets Seulgi’s eyes, Irene almost physically feels her heart beating its way out of her chest. But this time, for an entirely different reason.

Maybe it’s the glimmer in Seulgi’s eyes, or the apologetic yet elated smile in Seulgi’s lips, or the way Seulgi says her name—sweet yet like she’s being unraveled one heartstring at a time. “Juhyun-ah.”

Then, Seulgi says, “Can I keep you?”

And Irene feels like crying all over again; Seulgi swears she has not seen anything as beautiful as Irene at this moment.

.

 

In the end, Irene just lets out a soft laugh, and then runs a tongue through her teeth. She slides her hands trapped in between her and Seulgi upwards, letting them rest on each of Seulgi’s shoulders. “Out of all the words you know, you quote Casper to me?”

Seulgi laughs with her. “It’s a classic!”

“Most people would go for Neruda. But you, you go with Casper.”

Seulgi beams at Irene, clearly playful and completely amused. Though, Irene can feel every ounce of sincerity in the way that Seulgi tenderly wipes the tears off of her cheeks.

“I’m not most people.”

“No,” Irene sighs, and it’s lighthearted. A huge contrast from the jagged breaths she’s catching up in her throat just moments ago. “No you’re not. But I swear I’m breaking up with you if we start floating in the air.”

“Oh,” Seulgi breathes out. Her head pulls back a little in surprise, but an giddy, whimsical smile quickly takes over her face at the thought of her and Irene _together_. (It’s not like it’s the only thing she’s been dreaming about for the past seven months— _oh_ , _wait_.) “We're dating, huh?”

“Oh yes,” answers Irene. She smirks at Seulgi—and that shouldn’t be attractive, Seulgi thinks, because Irene has hay fever, and her eyes are puffy, and her nose is red, and it’s totally _not_ fair—then says, “That Casper line got me hook, line and sinker.”

At Irene's teasing tone, a constrained sound escapes from Seulgi’s throat. “Hyun, I'm serious!”

Irene chuckles, and Seulgi has to resist the urge to press a kiss on Irene’s lips because they’re nowhere near the right place, and there are far more important matters at hand.

“I am too. I thought my lock screen made that pretty clear?”

“Yeah, well,” mumbles Seulgi, fighting the blush that’s spreading fast on her cheeks. “You know me.”

“I do,” Irene agrees. She inches closer to Seulgi again, into her personal space that Seulgi willingly gives away—and _goodness_ , they’re gonna be _that_ couple, aren’t they?—enough that she can feel Seulgi’s breaths on her temple. “You can tell Neruda from E.E. Cummings, but _not_ have a single clue about what I feel for you.”

Seulgi laughs softly as she tucks Irene’s hair behind her ears, before pressing a lingering kiss on Irene’s forehead, just because she can.

.

 

There’s a _whoop_ from somewhere in the hallway that Seulgi’s sure she isn’t supposed to hear, followed by the squeaking of shoes and the click of the door that has been hurriedly closed.

Seulgi breaks away, but she still holds Irene against her, not wanting to let go of the warmth just yet—they should really talk about that, because Irene _needs_ rest and Seulgi just really, really wants to take care of her—and then looks over her shoulder to the glass windows.

None of her students seem to have moved from their seat, but Seulgi knows better. She’d have words with them later, maybe wedge a thank you in between the lectures because despite all the stunts, Seulgi really does owe her students _this_.

For now, she takes Irene’s hands in hers and rubs some warmth in them, blowing hot air in between the spaces as her lips ghost Irene’s knuckles.

Irene gazes fondly at her in turn, gazes at her like everything just fell into place in the most unexpected moment and she can’t really ask for anything more.

And when Seulgi leads her by the hand and helps her get back inside the classroom, makes her students promise a second time to not give Irene-seonsaengnim a hard time until she’s all better, Irene thinks, she really can’t.

...

 

 

Even more so when Seulgi stands right in front of the class, facing her, and then says, “Hey Hyun, can you guess from whose poem is this?”

Irene sniffs once, taking the folds of tissue that Seulgi pulls from a newly bought box. “Okay?”

From somewhere in the background, there’s a gasp that Seulgi entirely ignores. Her eyes don’t leave Irene’s, just as Irene gazes right back at her. (Though, Irene’s eyes do flicker down as they follow the way Seulgi’s teeth tugs at her bottom lip; something that Seulgi wouldn’t really mind becoming a habit.)

Then, Seulgi speaks. “There aren’t words to describe how I feel about you.”

“That doesn’t sound like Neruda or E.E. Cummings at all,” Irene frowns, tilting her head. Though, the flush that heats up her cheeks is anything but her fever running, because the words still came from Seulgi’s mouth and that (of course) sends her heart straight into flutters.

“I know,” the younger teacher replies. She lowers her head, suddenly looking shyly at Irene from under her lids. As if she’s realizing at the last minute that whatever it is she’s trying to pull is not as swell as she originally thought. “It’s uhm, it’s Kang Seulgi’s.”

But, judging by the screams that suddenly engulfs the whole room, and the way Irene playfully punches her at the stomach before tucking herself in Seulgi’s warmth and burying her laugh into Seulgi’s neck, Seulgi thinks she got it just right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it guys, the last chapter! i would just like to thank everyone who gave this story a chance, and those who left a kudos and/or a comment. please accept my heartfelt thank you. <3


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